The pirate ship was taken away and stowed, and Dante ordered it not to be used until the lift mechanism was fixed.
Angus kept a sharper eye on Ciaran all day, but no more incidents occurred. His respect for Dante rose, as did his gratitude. Dante could have saved his own cub and let Ciaran look after himself. That happened sometimes in the wild, and Dante had never known the touch of a Collar.
Later that evening, Angus bought Dante a beer and they drank quietly together, sitting out under the stars.
As the park darkened on Friday, and the citizens of Wichita Falls, a larger town than San Angelo, came to find entertainment, Tamsin vanished, and Ciaran with her. Angus prowled about looking for them, growling under his breath, until he came to a large tent with a long queue outside it. The sign in front proclaimed “Madame Butterfly and Her Dancing Wolf.”
Angus tamped down his fury as he pushed through the crowd and bullied the ticket taker into letting him by. The rest of the audience flowed in around him, taking their seats. Angus didn’t bother with a seat, reaching the backstage area just as a woman came dashing onstage from the other side.
Her red hair was nowhere in evidence. She had tucked her real hair under a short blue-black wig, her face hidden by a large mask in the shape of a butterfly. The tip of her nose and her lips were the only things visible.
The rest of the costume was a skintight bodysuit, shining pink and glittering with silver sequins in the form of butterflies. The light bouncing from the silver disguised her height and even her build somewhat—difficult to fix on her with all the blinding sparkles.
Madame Butterfly ran around the small area, arms spread to welcome the guests, who cheered. On her second circuit, she grabbed two large rings from someone on the other side of the stage. The rings were about three feet in diameter, and as sparkly as her costume. She held them out in front of her, spacing them about four feet apart.
From the wings shot a small black animal with pointed ears, black nose, and large feet that covered ground fast. Angus’s heart skipped a beat—he’d know that little furry body anywhere.
The crowd made a collective Aw sound. Ciaran ran once around Madame Butterfly, then soared through the rings and landed without a stumble.
The audience applauded. Madame Butterfly and the wolf moved around the stage area, with her holding the rings at varying heights or closer to or farther from each other. When she started throwing and catching the rings with perfect juggler’s ease, Angus’s breath caught. Caught again when Ciaran leapt through the rings, timing himself exactly right to go through without a hitch.
Angus exhaled when Ciaran landed, a smug look on his wolf face. The crowd loved him, cheering, clapping, and whistling.
Madame Butterfly brought out other obstacles from the wings—hollow tubes Ciaran could run through or jump on, balls she and Ciaran bounced to each other. The audience couldn’t get enough of the cute and clever little dog.
Two lanky men ran out from the wings and quickly set up a sort of balance beam consisting of a very, very thin round bar that hung about three feet off the ground.
Angus nearly stormed out and grabbed Ciaran before he could jump up on the contraption, but Ciaran merely ran under it while Madame Butterfly jumped lightly to the bar and started to walk across it. She moved with amazing agility, as though she barely noted how narrow the bar was.
Angus’s lips parted as he watched. He knew Tamsin was as light-footed as her fox, but he never dreamed she could balance like that—
“Enjoying the show?”
“Shit!” Angus’s bellow was drowned out by the crowd’s enthusiasm as Ciaran began leaping through hoops the balancing Madame Butterfly held up.
Angus swung around to find Tamsin next to him, in dark jeans and black shirt, her hair in a braid, a dark baseball cap on her head. He stared at her, jerked his attention to the act onstage, and swiveled back to her.
“Tamsin, what the fuck? I thought that was you.” He pointed accusingly at Madame Butterfly.
Tamsin gazed at the glittering woman, feigning surprise. “Me? No, that’s Celene. She’s far more graceful than I could ever be. She’s done this kind of thing before, and thought it was a great idea. That’s how she and Dante met. She used to be a tightrope walker.”
“Son of a bitch, Tamsin.”
Celene danced lightly along the bar, juggling hoops, which Ciaran leapt through, back and forth.
Tamsin laced her arm through his. “You didn’t think I would actually perform, did you? Someone might recognize me, even dressed up. Everyone knows Celene. And they think Ciaran’s a dog.”
Angus’s heart thumped. His rage surged, though he didn’t know why he should be angry. Tamsin had done the smart thing and not exposed herself.
No, he did know. She was a shit. She’d deliberately let him worry that she was doing something stupid when she’d planned all along to work behind the scenes.
Tamsin’s grin told him she knew exactly what thoughts spun in his head.
“How is this earning your keep?” he demanded. “Or are you hiring out Ciaran, like he really is an animal?”
She looked indignant. “I’d never do that. No, I’m their trainer.”
“Shit, Tamsin.”
Tamsin’s musical laughter filled him with warmth. Her heat as she pulled herself closer threatened to burn him up.
The audience loved Ciaran. They oohed and aahed as Ciaran leapt and spun, laughed when he ran in circles, his tail wagging. At last, Celene jumped down from the balance bar, held out her arms, and caught Ciaran as he leapt into them.
Everyone cheered and applauded as Celene let Ciaran spring down. They did a lap together and then ran off into the shadows.
The lights on the stage lowered, and loud music came on, encouraging the audience to leave their seats. They went, talking excitedly about the show.
Angus strode behind the curtain to the other side of the wings. Ciaran was already in boy form, pulling on a pair of sweatpants. He was out of breath, flushed, and starry-eyed.
He leapt to his feet as Angus approached. “Did you see me, Dad? Did you like it?”
Celene had removed her butterfly mask. Close up, Angus saw that while she had the same height as Tamsin, her build was much slenderer, since she had the long, thin bones of the Fae.
“He’s a natural.” Celene beamed at Ciaran. “Don’t be angry, Angus. I did say we should ask you first, but Tamsin assured me it would be all right.”
“Oh, I know exactly who to blame.” Angus drew a breath, ready to send Ciaran home and forbid him to perform again. Ciaran caught his look, and all the joy went out of him. His head drooped, and he looked away quickly so Angus wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes.
This was special to him, Angus realized. Ciaran really had done well—he was agile and strong, and grew more so every day.
Angus let out the breath in a conceding sigh. “All right, Ciaran, as long as you don’t do too many shows and are in bed before ten. And it’s not forever. Just for now—all right?”
Ciaran brightened, then looked downcast, then brightened again. “Only two shows a night, Dad. And they’re short. But it’s easy for me. All I have to do is jump around like I always do. Celene holds the rings so I make it every time. She’s really good at it.”
“Nothing too difficult or too risky,” Angus said, trying to sound like a stern parent.
“Don’t worry—we rehearsed this,” Tamsin said. “Celene knows what she’s doing. Ciaran’s safety is the most important thing.”
“It had better be.” Angus scowled. “I’ll be right here every show to make sure.”
“Good.” Tamsin took his arm again. “I’ll be right beside you.”
Ciaran and Celene performed one more time, to another admiring audience. As Angus and Tamsin left the tent with Ciaran, who’d shifted and dressed, Ciaran asked, “Can I spend the
night with Brina? Please? She wants to show me more of her games. Dante and Celene will be right there.”
Angus gave him a frown, but he didn’t dismiss the request out of hand. He knew the cubs really were interested in nothing but games at their age—Shifters had no yearnings for the opposite sex until their Transition, which wouldn’t happen for either cub for another eighteen or so years. Dante was proving he could look out for Ciaran, but Angus still had a hard time letting himself trust.
“You can go for a while,” Angus said. “But then I’m coming over to take you home. You’ll sleep with us.”
Ciaran’s eyes lit up. “Sweet! Good enough.”
He wanted to run off then and there, but he waited for Celene, in her regular clothes now, to join them, take his hand, and lead him away.
Tamsin walked back to the RV with Angus. The carnival was going strong—it was still a few hours until closing. The midway flashed, screams from the rides ebbing and flowing in the breeze. People strolled through the aisles, buying food and souvenirs, kids laughing as they darted toward their favorite rides, adults just as noisy as they enjoyed being kid-like again.
Tamsin gave an exaggerated yawn and sagged against Angus. “I’m beat. All this training and worrying about the performances has worn me out. Being a stage mom is exhausting.”
“Go to bed, then.” Angus untwined her arm from his but kept hold of her hand. “I’m going to prowl around a little, check the perimeter.”
Tamsin’s brows drew together, but then she smoothed her expression, slid her hand from his, said good night, and jogged away, her braid bouncing on her back.
Angus waited until he watched Tamsin go inside the trailer, then he moved to the darkness of the field beyond, undressed, and shifted to wolf. He made a round or two of the entire fairgrounds, keeping eyes, ears, and nose out for enemies.
He saw, heard, and smelled nothing but humans thronging the night. No other Shifters except Dante. No furtive Shifter Bureau agents trying to blend in. Humans who didn’t belong gave off a nervous scent, and Angus smelled nothing like that.
He returned to his clothes, shifted, dressed, and made his way to the RV.
Tamsin, instead of being in bed asleep, despite her claims of tiredness, was washing out the few dishes they’d used at lunch. She glanced over her shoulder at Angus as he came in and locked the door behind him, before drying the plates and stacking them in the cupboard above her.
“All quiet?” she asked.
“All noisy as hell,” Angus said. “But no one’s after us for now.”
“Good.”
Angus took the last dried plate from her and slid it into the cupboard.
He looked down at Tamsin, who stood inches from him. If he lowered his arm, he could enclose her with it.
His mating frenzy, and Tamsin’s, realized at that moment that the two of them were, for the first time in a long time, completely alone.
Angus reached behind him and snapped off the light and then bunched the front of Tamsin’s T-shirt in his big hand and yanked her against him for a kiss.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Tamsin crashed against Angus’s chest as he curved down to her. She rose to meet his kiss, which was hard and hot and tasted of hunger.
She opened her mouth for his, his tongue brushing heat inside her.
This kiss was different, demanding, wanting. Before, Angus had kissed with warmth and longing, but at this moment, he was a Shifter, with all veneer of human stripped away, a Shifter giving in to a primal need for his mate.
Angus dragged Tamsin’s shirt upward, his fingers strong. Tamsin helped him, wriggling her arms out of the sleeves, her mouth holding his until she had to lift the shirt off over her head.
Cool air touched her skin, her bra a black slash against her paleness. She clutched Angus’s T-shirt with the same frantic impatience he had hers, wanting him bare.
Angus backed a step so Tamsin could yank his shirt off him. His torso was hard with muscle, brushed with wiry black hair. She’d seen his full body when they’d shifted back and forth in the bayous, and when she peeked at him while he’d dressed or undressed in the trailer, and she’d enjoyed every second. Now she let her hands cup his waist, feeling his strength. She traced the muscles of his chest, running her thumbs across his flat nipples.
Angus growled low in his throat. The next thing Tamsin knew, she was being lifted against the side of the cabinet, his body holding her in place while his mouth came down on hers once more.
She clung to him, fingers skimming his back, bringing one foot up to encircle his legs.
Angus lifted his head, his breath coming fast. His face was flushed, gray eyes glittering. “I’ll give you a chance to run.”
Tamsin’s heartbeat sped, her pulse throbbing in every fingertip. “Will you chase me?” she whispered in hope.
Heat flared in his eyes, his predator’s need focusing on her. “No.”
“Well, then, I’ll stay here.” Tamsin tightened her arms around him, pulling him down for more kissing.
Angus resisted, tension in every muscle. “I don’t know if I can be careful, Tamsin. I’ve been going insane staying away from you.”
The words only fueled her excitement. “It hasn’t been much good for my sanity either.”
“You can say no.” His voice held the guttural rasp of his wolf, the words barely coming out. “You can go. Refuse me. We’re not mates yet.”
Tamsin gently drew him back to her. “Yes, we are.”
His eyes went incandescent. The kiss he covered her mouth with was incandescent too, fire burning all the way down Tamsin’s body.
She heard a rip, and then her bra was gone, flown who knew where. No cloth now existed between her chest and his, and her nipples grew tight as his body warmed them.
Angus kissed her, bending her head back until it rested against the cabinet, his hard hand sliding into her jeans, cupping her backside.
Two could play at that game. Tamsin thrust her fingers between them and loosened his belt, and then slithered her hands under his waistband, finding his underwear and the sleek, hot skin beneath it. No going commando for Angus. She imagined he’d stare at her if she suggested it, telling her he’d only get chafed if he left off his underwear.
His smooth buttocks were worth the effort to get to. Angus closed himself off to most people—the fact that he’d let her into his intimate world made Tamsin feel glorious.
He brushed his hand over her hip inside her jeans, the button that held them closed straining. It popped as Angus brought his fingers around to her front, and the zipper opened swiftly.
Tamsin didn’t go commando either. Her black satin underwear let Angus’s fingers slide easily over her, until he touched her heat through the silky fabric.
Tamsin sucked in a breath, breaking the kiss, her eyes widening. No man had touched her intimately in a very long time, and then it had been a fumbling experience with a human who hadn’t really known what he was doing.
Angus knew exactly how to touch her. He watched her as he stroked, his gaze focusing as though wanting to see her reaction.
Tamsin stepped her feet apart, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. Angus kissed her, more gently this time, as he cupped her between her legs, sending her need spiraling high.
Tamsin managed to squeeze her hand to the front of his jeans, making short work of his button and zipper. She closed her fingers around his hot cock, the smooth skin stretched hard. She slid her hand up and down the shaft, cupping the warm weight of his balls, skimming her fingers along him, as nature and instinct drove them closer to mating.
Nature and instinct weren’t going to let them make it to the bed. Angus withdrew his hand to shove her jeans and underwear down, and at the same time Tamsin pushed at his, both of them struggling to get the inconvenience of shoes and boots out of the way.
Angus
lifted her, her jeans sliding off so she could open to him. Tamsin was up against the cabinet, her legs coming around him, the laminate creaking behind her.
His blunt hardness touched her opening, which was slick with wanting and from his playing. Tamsin let out a groan, pulling her mate close, encouraging him to come to her.
Angus’s growl filled the trailer as he thrust upward, driving straight into her.
* * *
• • •
He could die now. Die and be sent to dust, and he’d go out with a smile.
Tamsin’s little moan of pleasure kicked Angus’s need high. She was his mate, this beautiful, funny, joyful woman, all his.
She’d put her arms around him when he’d pointed out they weren’t officially mated yet—the sun and moon ceremony in front of witnesses would do that—and she’d smiled up at him and said, Yes, we are.
The truth of that rocketed through Angus’s body. Mates. Together. One.
Warmth burned in his chest, a tether that encircled his heart and pulled tight. Mate. Mine.
Mate. Hers.
Angus thrust again, needing to climb inside her, the urge to be one with her overwhelming. He kissed her, seeking her, her fingers pressing the corners of his mouth to open him wider to her.
Tamsin’s hair, still in its braid, fell over his arm like a silken rope. Her fingers now pressed into his back, tugging him closer as she arched up to him.
Her body was liquid heat, drowning him. Angus gladly succumbed. His jeans dragged at his ankles and cool air from the ventilation fan touched him, but where he joined with Tamsin was fire itself.
He thrust again, the joy of it sending all other thoughts, all other sensations, to the wind. Angus knew nothing but Tamsin closing around him, her hands on his back, her mouth open under his, the rise of her breath that slid her breasts against his chest.
She broke the kiss to let out a noise between a growl and a groan, her head falling back.